


like a river

by goodnightpuckbunny



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Getting Together, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, Multi, Sexting, Shower Sex, Skype Sex, Soul Bond, Telepathy, Threesome - F/M/M, Trope Inversion, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-26 02:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightpuckbunny/pseuds/goodnightpuckbunny
Summary: Sid's dick was different.





	like a river

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chibinecco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibinecco/gifts).



> I hope it was everything you wanted! I tried to fit as many of your requests in as possible. :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who encouraged me while writing this. You're all beautiful people.

After several years together, Anya knew about everything he wanted. There was no way for Zhenya to hide it from her, after all. His desires sang through their bond every time they were in bed together. Just as Zhenya knew how much Anya wanted to always be on top, to have him pinch her clit, and to sometimes have an extra finger pushed in alongside his cock until it was too much, Anya knew how much he wanted to be held down and fucked.

When Anya found out—after Zhenya’s thoughts had gone slithering through their bond unbidden as she pinned his hands above his head on the pillows—she had confessed that she didn’t want to fuck him. Still, they found other ways to give him what he needed.

“You know you can find someone to help you with this when I’m not there,” Anya said with two fingers inside him, the night before he would leave Moscow for Pittsburgh and wait for her to arrive later. The latex glove she wore didn’t help to diminish the deadliness of her manicure, but she was gentle with him, always. He had already made her come twice with his mouth and so she had more than enough patience to take Zhenya apart.

“I don’t need anyone else,” he protested. “You’re perfect for me.” She was; she had tied her hair up and tucked a pillow under his hips to finger him.

She clucked her tongue. “I’m not talking about a trade, just an addition. It should be someone you trust to take you down. A friend,” she said, and then when he didn’t reply, “It could be one of your teammates. Maybe Sid.”

Zhenya didn’t want to think about Sid. The thoughts came anyway: Sid’s thick thighs, his goofy smile, how his eyes went dark and calm at the faceoff dot. He could hook Zhenya’s legs over his shoulders, and drive so deep inside him. Of course, Anya didn’t know about Sid’s cock, but Zhenya barely understood it himself.

Anya read those thoughts through the bond like rising steam, and smirked. “Anyone is fine with me as long as you tell me about it. I know you get bored when I’m away.” She was teasing him, and sent some of her own thoughts about Sid his way, of Zhenya spread open and sweating and desperate with Sid between his legs. It still stunned him that Anya liked this part of him so much.

She saved him from denying his desires again by pulling her fingers out and pressing a silicone plug in, the stretch just the way he wanted it. He groaned, and Anya pushed his thighs up and sat down onto his cock with her legs spread wide, bracketing his hips, his knees up by his ears. He was pinned, and she was still slick and hot from earlier as his cock pushed inside. She clenched around him once, and then thrust down, riding him.

The angle was weird, and Zhenya loved it.

“Tell me,” Anya said.

“You feel so good,” Zhenya blurted. “Your pussy is made for my cock—so fucking slick. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she gasped, but she was smiling.

“I’d fuck you forever. Fill you again, and again—as much as you want.”

Anya moved on top of him for another minute, and then said, “Alright, enough. I don’t have your thighs.” She pulled off, her pussy clinging to him for a moment before she rolled off.

Zhenya obliged her, lowering his legs back to the bed and then easing her back down on top of him to lie on his chest. He contemplated playing with her breasts for a while, but it wasn’t fair to tease either of them for much longer. She’d let him do it after they were done fucking, anyways. Instead he realigned and slipped his cock back inside her. He had leverage like this, and after coming twice, Anya didn’t have the energy to make her pussy ripple and tug him deeper. He was free to squirm inside her.

He wiggled his cock in deep, and then pulled out smoothly, stretching her and pushing against all the spots that made her sigh.

“Good?” Zhenya asked, knowing the answer already. Anya’s contentment flooded the bond, but they’d also had plenty of practice at getting it just right. She turned her head and panted into Zhenya’s ear.

He made his cock become hard again, sacrificing length for firming up the ridges near the base. Anya spread her legs and tilted her hips, and Zhenya fucked up into her. Every time he thrust, the plug in his ass nudged against his prostate, jolting his cock. He could feel how much she loved it, and she became slicker, hotter. He pushed his hand between their bodies, found her clit and rubbed it in little circles. She tightened, and then squeezed around his ridges as she came, latching her mouth to his neck and sucking so hard it was painful. Zhenya felt her orgasm through the bond, too, bright and dazzling as a firecracker.

“Do it,” Anya said, when the flames of her delight fizzled out. She was loose, but still quivering weakly. “Fuck me, Zhenya— _hard_ _—_ come on.”

He did, holding her hips and pounding into her. He hoped she would feel it tomorrow, when he was on a plane and she was still here in Moscow. He wanted her to still be slick when she slid a dildo inside herself and thought of him.

And then for a moment he thought of Sid, lying beside them, telling Zhenya to really give it to her, to fuck his wife until she screamed, to have her like he wanted to be taken. Anya encouraged him through the bond, thought _yes_ , and Zhenya came like that. He shoved inside Anya as deep as he could and spilled himself out, clenching on the plug inside him.

Anya stroked his hair while he recovered, softening a bit inside her before pulling out. He drifted for a moment, enjoying the buzz. Well, sex was meant to be fun. He would never have to tell Sid about it.

Zhenya rolled Anya onto her back. He hooked her legs over his shoulder and settled in to watch as her cunt turned from vibrant magenta back to soft purple, its four leaves curling back inside even though she stayed slick and a little swollen. When it was done, Zhenya pressed a kiss just below her navel, and then blew a raspberry against her skin. She kicked him in the back when she squirmed away.

They cleaned up in the shower, trading kisses that mostly missed, and then tumbled back into bed together. Anya read her phone, and Zhenya downloaded some books to read on the plane. He was trying to find something new and interesting, and mostly failing. What he wanted to read were romance novels, but he always felt embarrassed reading something like that with other people around. He whined about it with his arm around Anya’s shoulders, his hand on her breast, stroking and squeezing it like he knew she wouldn’t mind.

They slept curled up in each other, and the next morning Zhenya went back to Pittsburgh.

 

* * *

 

Anya didn’t mention Sid again. If she was thinking about it, the distance between them was far too great for Zhenya to read anything through the bond. Usually she was content to suggest things and let Zhenya ruminate on them until he realized that he wanted the same thing she did. Even when she came later to Pittsburgh when the team had a decent homestand, she didn’t say anything about it. She fingered Zhenya, and fucked his cock, and allowed him to come to his own conclusions.

He did want Sid. Of course he did. Sid was impossible not to like once you had been around him for a few minutes. And for Zhenya, after years of seeing Sid’s victories and losses, hearing his laughter, watching him mature, being with him nearly every day, it was hard not to be actually affectionate towards him. Zhenya looked at Sid and wanted to be kept in his pocket.

It wasn’t just Sid’s sparkling-sweet personality and competitive flame that made Zhenya want him, though.

Sid’s dick was...different.

It didn’t look right, at first. It was the same colour as his flesh, if slightly darker, which was enough to baffle Zhenya. He’d been in a lot of locker rooms and caught glimpses of a riot of colours—Zhenya's own was an uncommon deep blue—but he'd never seen Sid’s shade.

He had wondered if Sid was sick, if his skin had grown over his real cock, somehow. Or was he an _alien?_

His cock just hung there, probably a little weighty judging by its size and how it kind of swung between his thighs as he walked. Zhenya never saw it move, only Sid adjusting it with his hand through his pants. And his balls, too, were the same weird flesh-toned uniformity. It was completely strange. Sure, every cock was unique, but Sid’s—well.

Zhenya had long ago resolved himself not to think about it.

Except now he _was_ thinking about it, because Anya wanted him to.

After practices, Sid waddled around the room, his junk flopping as he moved, talking to the guys and completely unabashed at his own strangeness. Zhenya averted his eyes and _thought about it_.

If he could convince Sid to fuck him, what would it be like? Zhenya wanted to be held down by Sid’s body. Sid could pin his arms behind his back, and shove his face into the mattress, and pound into him with Zhenya’s back bent until it ached. He could lodge the head of his cock right up against Zhenya’s prostate. His cock looked like it would probably be thick when it got hard. He’d stretch Zhenya out so fucking _good_.

There was no way that Zhenya could think to ask Sid that didn’t make him burn up. It was _Sid_ , after all, who would probably go a little pink and then politely decline, slap Zhenya on the back, and pretend nothing had ever happened.

And so Zhenya just fucked himself on his own fingers a lot, and tugged at his rim, thinking of Sid dragging hot and heavy inside him, until he made a mess of the sheets.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Anya passed through Pittsburgh for a few days on her way to Miami from New York. They went to a potluck dinner at Tanger’s house, and brought three veggie platters from the grocery store that Catherine insisted on replating to match her table setting. Anya kept sneaking cherry tomatoes and her mouth was a little acidic when Zhenya kissed her and dipped his tongue in.

“Hey,” Sid scolded with a grin when he caught them with a bowl of roasted brussel sprouts in his hands. He was always being put to work during parties setting the table and then washing dishes later. “Keep it PG in front of the kids, eh?”

“Don’t be jealous. It’s not cute,” Anya replied tartly.

Zhenya was always grateful that Sid’s grasp of Russian was limited to profanity and hockey terms, and he couldn’t understand most of the things Anya said to him. They were usually rude. “Kids see always, it’s fine,” Zhenya said in English, fighting to keep the heat from his cheeks.

Sid, still smiling, shook his head and walked away. Zhenya watched him go. Anya reached over and stole a sip from Zhenya’s wine glass.

“He looks good in that shirt,” she said. “Purple is a nice colour on him. He should wear brighter things more often.”

Zhenya took his sangria back. If Anya wanted one, he’d go get it for her. “You know Sid only wears shades of black.”

“Because he thinks it’s slimming on him?”

Probably, Zhenya guessed, because he thought dark shades looked more professional and were interchangeable. Most of what Sid wore that wasn’t a suit was some combination of a dark shirt with dark jeans, and a sweater if he was feeling especially festive. “There’s nothing that can make his ass look less fat. He has a blimp for a butt.”

Anya laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Go ahead,” he said, and then kissed her again before Sid could come back with more food for the table.

At dinner, Anya sat on Zhenya’s left, and Sid to his right, who spent the whole meal going on about—nothing, really. Trivia he’d picked up about one thing or another. Zhenya let it wash over him and tried to steal brown button mushrooms from Anya’s plate without her noticing. He could probably shut Sid up by kissing him. His mouth was red from the same batch of sangria Zhenya was drinking.

But then, Zhenya liked listening to the sound of Sid’s voice.

By the time dessert rolled around, and Sid was moaning his way through a slice of flourless torte, Zhenya’s cock was stirring in his pants. Anya sent a wave of sympathy through their bond which did not at all disguise the actual smug satisfaction she was feeling. If this went on for much longer, Zhenya was going to drag Sid up to Tanger’s spare bedroom, and Anya knew it. She was going to get her way because Zhenya was out of patience.

Except then Sid went to wash the dishes, piling everything together into one uneven stack to bring to the kitchen, only wobbling a little in his socks on the hardwood. Anya had an English-headache to match Zhenya’s wine-headache, and so they left before Sid could organize ball hockey with all the children.

“Do you need me to ask for you?” Anya slid her hands up the back of Zhenya’s shirt as he poured them both a glass of water from the bathroom sink at home.

Zhenya put the glasses down onto the marble counter with a clunk. “No.”

She leaned against him, her forehead pressed to his back, her fingernails scratching his skin. Then she put her arms around his middle, and held him until the tension drained out of his shoulders.

“It’s just not the right time,” Zhenya said.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

What was the worst that could happen? He was nervous, but the small logical part of his brain told him that there was little to risk. Sid was a good man, after all—the best of them, really. “I’ll do it soon,” he said.

 

* * *

 

He had some good fortune a week and a half later, after driving himself absolutely wild with the filth of his own imagination. Testing out some new skates kept him on the ice long after regular practice had ended. When he went down the runway, the locker room had already emptied. Sid’s awful warbling came from the showers, belting out the latest shitty American pop tune. The two of them were alone—or as alone as they could be.

Zhenya steeled himself, and started shucking his gear.

The showers were filled with steam; Sid liked to crank the heat until his skin turned red under the spray. There was no way for Zhenya to approach quietly, with his slides slapping on the wet tiles. Sid heard him even over his caterwauling.  

“How’re those skates working?” He asked, turning to face Zhenya as he approached.

“Good,” Zhenya said, “Little tight, but it’s okay for play tomorrow.”

“New skates are always tight.” Sid never changed his skates unless he absolutely had to. He was stuck in his ways, and as much as Zhenya found it endearing—beyond all reason—he also wanted to mess with Sid all the time. It was a fine line between _teasing_ Sid, which he loved, and messing with his formula for success, which could throw off his whole game. But today wasn’t a game day.

Zhenya took the towel from around his neck, folded it, and dropped it to the floor at Sid’s feet. Then he knelt.

“What are you—Geno,” Sid startled, and took a step back. Zhenya grabbed Sid’s ankle. “What are you _doing?_ ”

Wasn’t it obvious? “What you think?” Zhenya asked. He leaned in to press his mouth to the top of Sid’s thigh. Then he was eye-level with Sid’s strange cock. It was even more odd close up, sort of fat, hanging there, soft. Zhenya kissed Sid’s hip and listened to him gasp. “It’s okay?”

“Okay?” Sid repeated. Zhenya hoped Sid would get hard. He slid his hands up Sid’s calves and higher, rucking the wet hair on his legs until he reached his downy, thick thighs. Sid tensed, leaning back to pull away entirely. “We don’t—you’re married!”

Zhenya rolled his eyes, but things were going well if that was Sid’s primary objection. “She say is fine. She want me to do.”

“You’re telling me Anna put you up to this?” Sid asked, incredulous.

It wasn’t strictly true, because Anya specifically wanted Sid to fuck him, but close enough. Anya would trust Zhenya to get Sid into their bed in whatever way he thought best, blowjobs included. “Yes.”

His bond with Sid was platonic; strong, but built mostly on shared goals and a long-lasting friendship. It wasn’t too different from the bond he shared with other guys on the team, old and new. It was less telepathic and more empathic. Zhenya felt the throb of hot want that pulsed through Sid. He looked up, finally, and saw Sid’s stormy, dark eyes.

“You want,” Zhenya accused.

“Apparently your wife wants you to suck me off in the showers.”

“And _I_ want,” said Zhenya, tired of all the talking. He didn’t have the words to explain how he wanted Sid to slide his cock onto his tongue, into his mouth, and down his throat. His vocabulary prevented him from expressing just how much he wanted Sid to use him. “You let me do?”

Sid reached back and cranked the taps off. That was answer enough.

Zhenya went slow, trying to savor the experience in case he never got the chance again. He didn’t want to offend Sid with his curiosity, but he _was_ curious. Sid’s cock was a warm weight, plumping in his palm as Zhenya held it. It was damp from the shower; it didn’t really move when Zhenya curled his hand around it.

“It works the same as anyone’s,” Sid said. “Put your mouth on me, c’mon.” He shifted his hips, and then stepped closer again, until he could’ve shoved his dick into Zhenya’s face if he wanted.

Like this, Zhenya thought Sid’s was kind of—he didn’t know. Cute? There was something about the vulnerability of it, motionless and steadily swelling, lengthening.

Zhenya put his mouth against the tip of it, a full wet kiss, and Sid sucked in a breath above him.

“Keep going,” Sid encouraged.

Sid slid his hand over Zhenya’s head, pushing his hair back, then rested on the back of his neck. Zhenya leaned in, and started sucking Sid’s cock down.

He could fit most of it in, for a moment, though it was certainly too much, and Zhenya had to back off to re-evaluate. It didn’t seem like Sid was going to do any of the work, and likely _couldn’t_. His cock just didn’t move—no twisting or curling—and only kept getting bigger, and harder. And pinker, almost the same shade Sid blushed when he was being lovingly teased by his teammates.

Zhenya sucked and licked the round head, the pinkest part. Sid moaned at that, and was louder when Zhenya tried to slide his lips further down Sid’s shaft. He used his hand for what he couldn’t manage. He was getting spit everywhere, and that helped. Zhenya twisted his hand in rhythm with his mouth. When Sid seemed to stop growing, and Zhenya was confident enough, he tried to get Sid further back in his mouth.

It was easier, actually, that Sid’s cock wasn’t wiggling on his tongue, trying to slide down the back of his tongue. Zhenya could take his time, and wedge Sid into his throat at his own pace.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Sid yelped when Zhenya took him almost all the way down, the tip of his cock bumping him deep and making Zhenya choke. He pulled off, wiped his chin, groaned a little in frustration. There was still another inch or so to go. Sid was louder than Zhenya anticipated, moaning like he didn’t give a shit if anyone found them, crying out whenever Zhenya went back down.

And Zhenya’s own cock was stirring between his legs. It was everything Zhenya wanted—the unforgiving size and weight of Sid in his mouth and on his tongue, Sid’s bitten-off curses echoing off the tiles, the thrill of satisfying him. Zhenya palmed himself, letting his own cock curl in his hand, then squeezing it at the base, trying to hold off just a little longer.

Sid tucked his fingers behind Zhenya’s jaw. “Let me,” he tugged, pulling Zhenya’s mouth down onto his cock. He gasped, and then did it again. And then again, like he was helpless to stop himself, and Zhenya let him. “Geno, Geno,” Sid chanted, and Zhenya tried to keep his teeth out of the way, and swallow instead of choke.

He tried to moan encouragingly, but it only came out as a gurgle. Sid kept moving faster, tugging Zhenya’s head forward, pushing his cock deeper.

Sid cried out, his voice cracking, until he was finally able to get all the way inside and he went utterly silent. Zhenya’s nose was pressed into Sid’s unkempt thatch of pubic hair, and Sid’s cock—his hard, huge fucking cock—was in Zhenya’s throat. His heart beat rapidly. His eyes watered. He couldn’t breathe.

“I’m gonna—” Sid gasped, and then he twitched in Zhenya’s mouth, and came so deep that Zhenya couldn’t even feel it.

Zhenya let go of his own cock to grip Sid’s ass and pull him even tighter, and Sid moaned, high and desperate as he spilled as deep as he could get.

When Sid pulled out at last, Zhenya heaved for breath, and spluttered.

“Shit, G. Was that okay?” Sid asked, and then when Zhenya kept coughing instead of responding, he started apologizing.

Zhenya spat on the floor a few times, and then sat back on his heels enough to get the leverage to stand on shaky legs. “I’m fine,” he said, voice gravel-rough. Fuck, his knees were aching. If he was ever going to do this again, he was going to find a chair first.

Sid wrapped his arm around Zhenya’s waist, supporting his weight when his balance wavered once. “I should’ve warned you earlier, or something,” Sid apologized again, but Zhenya could read it so clearly through their weak bond that Sid might as well have spoken it aloud.

He wasn’t sorry at all—he had loved every second of it.

“Here, lemme just,” Sid shifted, pulling Zhenya along with him, until he was taking more of Zhenya’s weight. He wedged his thigh between Zhenya’s legs, nudging right up beneath his balls. Zhenya had gone soft, his cock limp, but it stirred now.

Sid kept pressing against him, drawing Zhenya closer until his chest was against Sid’s, too. Zhenya had no choice but to rub against him, held in place and pinned by Sid’s thigh. He shifted more of his weight and ground his dick on Sid.

“Yeah, you love this,” Sid practically purred, his lips just below Zhenya’s ear. “I had no idea. Did you want it this bad the whole time?”

Zhenya didn’t dare nod. He just shivered and thrust his hips.

“I could’ve helped you out sooner.”

“Sid,” Zhenya whined, clutching to him.

He didn’t know why he was begging and helplessly grinding against Sid's leg. He could take himself in hand and come in moments.

“You could’ve been on your knees every night, if you wanted.” Sid kissed his jaw, a brush of lips.

Sid slipped the tips of his fingers into the cleft of Zhenya’s ass, and Zhenya pressed back onto them as he jerked his hips. “Fuck me,” he pleaded, feeling Sid’s fingers graze his hole not nearly close enough.

“I will,” Sid promised. “Whatever you want, Geno.”

Zhenya tipped his head back, tensing everywhere, rubbing desperately against Sid’s thigh. He thought of Sid taking selfish pleasure from his body, fucking his cock into Zhenya in a relentless grind like he had just pushed into Zhenya’s throat, like he wanted so _badly_ , now that he knew what it felt like. Sid kissed his neck, and pressed his teeth into Zhenya’s skin, biting him carefully. He shuddered, then, and his orgasm rolled through him as a rough wave of relief.

His come ended up slicked all over Sid’s stomach and thigh, a glob of it in his pubes. Next to Zhenya’s indigo length still weakly spurting, Sid’s pinkish, soft cock still looked strange. Zhenya liked it even better now that it had been in his mouth; it looked just right for Sid in a way it hadn’t before. He swiped his come and smeared it onto Sid’s cock. Sid hissed and backed away.

“Time for a cleanup,” he said, and stepped back to turn the shower back on full blast.

 

* * *

 

He called Anya the night after it happened, his heart dancing in his throat, forcing the details out in a rush. He was inordinately proud of himself, even though it was just a blowjob.

“Was it what you needed?” Anya asked. Zhenya couldn’t get a good read on her tone, not through the phone, but he thought that she was at least happy for him.

 “Yes,” he said, and then, “Well, except.”

 “Except?”

 Zhenya had been rolling it around in his head all afternoon while he ran errands, treating each moment with equal care. He had loved every second of it, but it still wasn’t everything he would’ve liked. A shower wasn’t the best place for either of them to have sex. Zhenya had his knee, and sometimes his shoulder, and it was harder to breathe through the humidity—and Sid was old, too. He had his own persistent aches and pains that he hid from everyone. A bed would have been better, or at least one of the big media-room sofas in Sid’s house. He still wanted Sid to fuck him. Ideally, Anya could be there, too. And besides that—

“I didn’t kiss him,” said Zhenya. “It’s so stupid, but I was excited and I forgot.”

“That’s too bad,” Anya murmured.

“I didn’t want him to leave, I think. He’s always so jumpy about this kind of thing.” Sid was very careful about what kinds of physical contact he’d allow. On the ice—or even near it—almost anything was fair game. Guys had slapped his ass, and gripped his waist, and pressed their jubilant smiles to the hard plastic of his helmet. Zhenya had tucked Sid beneath his arm countless times. But otherwise, even in the locker room, Sid kept it to back-slaps and shoulder-squeezes. He was subtle about it. Zhenya only noticed when his own feelings were bursting out of him and Sid kept a professional distance.

“You can kiss him next time. I’ll bet he’s good at it,” Anya said.

Zhenya’s cheeks went hot. He pressed his fingers to his lips for a moment. Sid was good at anything he wanted to be good at. He was adaptable, and coachable. He’d probably fuck up Zhenya’s life in a handful of kisses. Zhenya blew out a shaky breath. “He’ll be amazing.”

Anya sighed too, a staticky noise through the phone.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” Zhenya asked. He’d stop if she wanted. He’d tuck the whole thing in the back of his mind and let dust grow over it, forgotten.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”

Zhenya thought for a moment. It was hard to just listen to Anya’s far-away voice. He wanted her to be next to him so he could feel what she was feeling, and hear her thoughts, but their bond was stretched thin and transparent over the distance. “Are you jealous?”

There was silence for a beat, and Zhenya’s stomach dropped. “Maybe a little,” Anya admitted.

“Anya,” he said. This was a mistake. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. I don’t think it’s a bad kind of jealousy.” She sounded tired. Zhenya realized that she had probably thought about this as much as he had.

“Is there such a thing as good jealousy?”

There was some rustling on the other end. Maybe Anya was pulling the blankets over herself the same way she pulled Zhenya’s arm around her shoulders when she was cold. They were many states apart, but they could still lie in bed together and talk. “You’ve liked him for longer than you’ve liked me.”

“I’ve just known him for longer,” Zhenya said, and immediately regretted his choice of words because he didn’t agree with her at all. “It’s not the same. You’re my wife and he’s my teammate. I don’t have a bond with him like I have with you. I’ll stop right now if it makes you uncomfortable.”

She didn’t say anything. Zhenya wanted to hold her, but she wouldn’t be back from her work trip for another five days, and then Zhenya would be on the road himself. Finally, she said, “You can’t turn your feelings off like a tap. Love is like a river.”

“I can turn it off,” Zhenya insisted. “He’s just my coworker.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said, and then when Zhenya tried to reply: “No, listen to me for a moment. I know there are things that I can’t give you. We’re both fine with the way things are, but couldn’t they always be better? How long have you liked Sid?”

“It was only when I felt alone.” Zhenya could feel the truth of those words. He’d wanted Sid for years, even unacknowledged to himself, but never when he was in a relationship with someone else. It was different this time, and he didn’t know why. “I’m not alone now.”

“Maybe you just weren’t thinking about it. Sid has been beside you for years. You’ve won and lost together. You lead your team together. You’re like partners.”

“We don’t have a bond,” Zhenya said stubbornly.

Anya huffed. “Only because you don’t want to have one. Don’t make me into your relationship counselor, Zhenya. It’s exhausting.”

Zhenya apologized again, and he knew the conversation was over. It was his turn to figure it out for himself.

Sid had always been so good to Zhenya. He was the best person he knew, and he cared about Sid more than he had any right to when his love should have already been reserved for his family. Still, it was undeniable. He had found space in his heart for Sid.

What didn’t help was that Sid was avoiding him, at least as much as he could in their line of work.

It was fine for a while. Zhenya tried to sort through his feelings and hung out with the rest of his friends on the team. He and Sid barely spent any time together anyways. They usually divided the team into uneven halves to socialize with and mentor.

Then after two days, Zhenya became tired of sadness and started thinking about sex again. Apparently it was possible for him to think even _more_ about Sid now that they’d had sex.

It had been the same way with Anya, after they had got together the first time. Zhenya’s mind was on her constantly in the first place, and then she spread her legs for him and let him rut inside her until he came, and she became the star focus of nearly every thought he had. It was reassuring to know that his reaction to Sid was the same, if distracting. He wanted Sid at least as much as he wanted Anya—maybe more at least for the time being, since it was so new. He wanted them _both_ , together.

Anya sent him a mirror selfie, completely bare except for a pair of sleek-looking heels, and Zhenya jerked off to it thinking of Anya hooking those shoes over Sid’s wide shoulders while he drove his dick inside of her. Zhenya could eat out Sid’s ass, letting Sid jerk between the hot, wet clutch of Anya’s pussy and the slick of Zhenya’s tongue. Sid would get loud again, but they’d be in Zhenya’s house where he could scream until the foundation shook.

He caught a moment of Sid laughing at Jake on the bench, and imagined him laughing over a candle-lit dinner, somehow finding Zhenya twice as funny as usual. Then Anya could lean over and capture his laughter in her own mouth. She’d swing her leg over his lap and straddle his thighs, and let Zhenya come up behind her, ruck up the skirt of one of her tight dresses, and slide his cock into her. Sid’s laughs would warm into moans when the two of them kept bumping their hips into his dick, only enough to tease.

Zhenya texted all of his fantasies to Anya, even after she’d come back to Pittsburgh and they’d had a few hours to fool around together before his own flight out of town. She sent back her own stories. She texted a picture of her hand, wet with wrinkled fingers, and chastised him for making her come. Zhenya had to wait hours before he could jerk himself off over that one.

She definitely liked it—more than Zhenya thought she would.

“He’s kind,” Anya said of Sid over facetime when Zhenya called her before a game. “And handsome.”

“And big,” Zhenya clarified. He still hadn’t told her about Sid’s weird cock, but he would.

“Good,” Anya purred. “Hurry up and bring him over.”

“As soon as we get home,” Zhenya promised.

So he had to talk to Sid, then. Anya would be home with him for two months, plus the bye-week, and he wanted to get them both something nice.

This time, Zhenya didn’t worry about the timing. Sid had barely said a word to him beyond “nice pass” in a week and a half. If Sid didn’t want Zhenya to accost him at the breakfast table, he should’ve broken the ice himself sooner.

Zhenya plopped down in the chair next to Sid. Predictably, he stopped eating. Only certain people were allowed to sit next to him at team-related meal times, and Zhenya wasn’t one of them. “You don’t talk,” he accused. “You sick?”

“What?” Sid put his fork to the side.

As if he didn’t know exactly what he had been doing. “You don’t talk to me for whole week, so you must be sick. Should tell coach? You scratch for game tonight?”

“I talked to you! Yesterday I said—”

Zhenya leaned into Sid’s space, “You’re mad I suck your cock?”

“Geno,” Sid snapped, and looked around. There was no one. Sid was an appallingly early riser on game days, and Zhenya had set his alarm accordingly. “Do you have to say it like—”

“No one around,” Zhenya interrupted again.

Sid visibly forced himself to relax. Good. Zhenya didn’t give a fuck who heard them. “Sorry. I guess I’ve been, uh, overthinking it all.”

“Nothing to think,” Zhenya said, though he’d been thinking, thinking, thinking for days. “You want again?”

Zhenya had the pleasure of watching Sid turn a new shade of red, the blush forming slowly on his face and down his neck in big blotches, not quite the colour he turned when he was being teased or the flush of exercise. “Are you offering?”

Of course he fucking was. He gave Sid a look to convey that.

“Yes, if you want. I’m—I’m uh, down.”

“You down?” Zhenya raised his eyebrows.

“You know. As the kids say.” His blush crept over his ears.

Zhenya could kiss him right there, in the middle of catered breakfast, over Sid’s cooling bacon, but then he doubted he’d be able to stop. “When we’re back to Pittsburgh. You come over?”

Sid actually brought his phone out, and pulled up the calendar app. “What day works best for you?”

“Any day,” Zhenya said. “Probably not game day. When we have two days off?”

“Sure,” Sid said absently, poking at the screen. It was a mosaic of coloured blocks, from what Zhenya could see, and there wasn’t any day that was completely free.

“You fuck me,” Zhenya said, for clarification in case Sid was looking for just a spare half hour.

Sid, gratifyingly, dropped his phone onto the table with a clatter against the plates and cutlery. “Yep, okay, I’ll just—” he picked up his phone and jabbed blindly, “is next Tuesday okay?”

He had a brief notion to run his foot up the back of Sid’s calf, or maybe press his thumb to the heated apple of Sid’s cheek, but he didn’t want to push his luck. “Sooner is best. I’m think about a lot, so,” Zhenya scooted his chair back before he did something that would embarrass him later, “I’m ready.”

Sid nodded, and didn’t look at Zhenya as he stood, but tapped away at his phone. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

And Zhenya thought that would be the last he would hear from Sid for at least a few days, but Sid surprised him later when he took Zhenya aside after two-touch.

“Sunday,” he said, confidently like he had been the one to bring it up in the first place. “Right after we get back, so bring your A-game.”

“You bring,” Zhenya challenged. “It’s my house.”

“Is Anna going to be there?”

“Yes,” Zhenya said, and didn’t offer otherwise. If Sid didn’t want Anya there, he didn’t have to show up.

“Does she like flowers?”

“Flowers my thing. You bring chocolate.”

Sid nodded, “So, roses or something less traditional? Never mind, I’ll just get her whatever is the most expensive.”

“Sid—”

“Okay, gotta go,” Sid turned and jogged off. “See you Sunday!” He called over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Anya was asleep when Zhenya got home from the road trip. Zhenya slid between the covers and wrapped himself around her, octopus-like. She stirred, and turned in his arms, and mumbled, “You smell like an airplane.”

“That’s just the scent of my longing for you.” He kissed her temple, and her cheek, but she turned her face away. It didn’t matter. They were next to each other again, and Zhenya could feel sleepy contentment and adoration coming from Anya in swells.

“Go shower, stinky,” she complained.

Zhenya swept her hair out of the way so he wouldn’t wake up with a mouthful of it. “We’ll just get dirty again in the morning. Go back to sleep.”

They did, in fact, get dirty in the morning. Zhenya fucked Anya on her back, a rare indulgence, and came half inside and outside of her. She made a face at him until he scooted down the bed, beneath the blanket, and lapped away all of his come, and then got her off with his mouth. When Zhenya came back up and kissed Anya, lips politely closed, he felt the warmth of their bond again. They had been away from each other for too long. He missed this.

“Your hair is a mess,” Anya said. She combed her fingers through it. “Let’s go do something about that.”

“I want breakfast,” Zhenya whined. There were waffles in the freezer unless someone had thrown them out. He could put them in the toaster and fool around with Anya until they popped.

“Shower first,” insisted Anya, and shoved at Zhenya’s chest until he let her up. “And brush your teeth. I want to kiss you.”

He did as she asked, and they made out in the shower a little bit before drying off and putting lounge clothes back on. The sun was shining through the kitchen window when they came downstairs, and Anya sat down with her phone while Zhenya made eggs.

The frying pan sizzled. “Sid’s coming over on Sunday.”

Anya didn’t look up from whatever she was reading. “Do you want me to be here?”

“I already told him you would be,” Zhenya said. He was tired of being so careful about everyone’s feelings, himself included. They all wanted this, so what was the hesitation? “I want you to be here.”

The corners of her mouth turned up. “Well, alright then.”

On Sunday, they woke up to an early alarm, and a text from Sid saying he’d be over some time after lunch. They spent the morning preparing. Anya went to have her nails redone while Zhenya tidied the bedroom and en-suite. Then they showered, and Anya stretched Zhenya open on the bed until her fingers could glide in smoothly. It mostly served to get him riled up, but he didn’t want to come until Sid was inside him, so he tried not to rub off against the sheets. Anya pushed the long, thick, ridged plug into Zhenya, and petted his ass until he could get his breathing under control.

While Anya curled her hair and got dressed, Zhenya chopped veggies and dressed some salmon in case Sid wanted to have dinner with them. (Sid was on another one of his healthy-eating jags, forgoing dairy and whining about it at every opportunity; they’d save the cheesecake in the freezer for next time.) By the time they were ready, it wasn’t even noon yet.

They sat in the living room, Zhenya with a book and Anya with her tablet, looking like she was about to step onto a photoshoot. Zhenya couldn’t sit still, and after fifteen minutes he gave up pretending to be reading.

“I have to tell you something about Sid,” he said.

Anya set the tablet aside and crossed her legs in the other direction. “Okay.”

There was no delicate way to phrase it, but at least Sid wasn’t around to hear Zhenya explain. “His dick isn’t normal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s,” Zhenya licked his lips, “it isn’t a normal cock colour.”

Anya raised her eyebrows. “So what colour _is_ it?”

“It isn’t any colour,” said Zhenya. “It’s just skin-coloured. Slightly red, I guess. It looks really weird and I thought I should warn you. And it’s a funny shape, too. Just—don’t be surprised.”

Her curiosity was piqued, Zhenya could tell, but she didn’t say so. “I see,” she said instead.

He liked Sid’s cock a lot, and he wanted Anya to like it, too. He was half-hard in anticipation. “He’s not really shy about it, but I’ve never asked him questions either. It still works like a regular cock,” he said, and then amended, “Well, except that it doesn’t really move. It just gets stiff and thick.”

“I’ll try not to faint when I see it,” Anya said wryly.

Sid showed up just under an hour later. His hair was damp, one charming curl resting on his forehead. He hadn’t brought flowers as he had threatened. Instead, he had brought a tin of something, which he handed to Anya.

“Hi, Sid,” she said, accepting his kiss on her cheek. She opened the box while Zhenya hung Sid’s grey wool coat, and then closed it before he could peek at the contents. It was probably something baked that neither Sid or Anya would eat, but Zhenya would happily avail himself to later.

“Geno said I wasn’t allowed to get you flowers,” said Sid, smiling.

All of the morning’s waiting boiled over. Zhenya pulled Sid in by his sweater and kissed him.

He was right about Sid; he kissed with the confidence of someone naturally talented, but who still wanted to achieve perfection. It didn’t last for long, though Zhenya was dizzy by the end of it.

“You need anything? Water?” He asked as he pulled away, and then didn’t wait for Sid’s reply. “Good,” he tucked his fingers into Sid’s jeans’ pockets and tugged him towards the staircase, “we go to bedroom now.”

He traded Sid’s pockets for his hand, and towed him upwards. Anya followed behind them, smiling in that heartwarming way she did.

“I feel overdressed,” Sid said as they crossed the threshold. Zhenya was in sweatpants and Anya was in her floral robe.

“Yes, take off,” Anya agreed. She moved to the side of the bed, kicked off her slippers, and climbed on. Zhenya followed her, crawling onto the bed to sit against the headboard. They watched as Sid undressed. He did it efficiently, without any attempt to be sexy, which made it even better. He seemed comfortable.

But then, when he slid his jeans to the floor, he apologized. His right thigh was striped with purple and green kinesiology tape. “It’s not really an injury,” Sid said, stepping out of his pants, “but it’s been an aggravation for a few days. I’m not supposed to use it for anything strenuous until Tuesday. So about what you wanted, Geno—”

“You let him be on top,” said Anya, impatient. Zhenya could feel the arousal slithering through her, could practically see the designs she had for the afternoon. He understood; Sid’s thighs had that effect on a lot of people. “Here, lie down.” She patted the bed next to her.

Sid pushed off his underwear, toed out of his socks, and then scooted up the bed to join them. “Hurry up,” Zhenya whined, but to his surprise, Sid pushed his face away and went to Anya instead. He kissed her like he hadn’t kissed Zhenya, slow and intense, focused, sincere, kneeling over her long, tan legs. Sid didn’t kiss her as deeply as Zhenya would, but he’s shocked to silence when he started to _feel_ Sid’s mouth on his, echoing through the bond.

He arched his neck, chasing after the sensation, and groaned when he couldn’t get more. Finally, Sid pulled away and laid down between them. “Okay,” he said, slapping his thighs next to his half-hard dick, “let’s get this show on the road.”

Zhenya struggled out of his sweatpants, shoving them down and away.

“And your shirt, too,” Anya said. Her face was flushed and she wasn’t looking at Zhenya, but rather at Sid’s cock. She was curious through the bond—she liked it.

Zhenya did as she asked, flung the shirt away, and then swung his leg over Sid’s lap. Sid’s hands went to Zhenya’s hips and he looked up, smiling, maybe a little nervous. “What about a condom?” He asked.

“Don’t bother,” Anya said in Russian. “Get him messy. He loves to have it in deep.”

“Under pillow, with lube.” Zhenya felt hot all over. He liked the idea of Sid marking him inside, but he wasn’t particularly interested in leaking come, even in the comfort of his own home. Anya only didn’t mind it for herself because Zhenya always cleaned it out of her.

Sid reached behind his head and found the supplies. Zhenya leaned over him and snagged his pink lips in another kiss. Then he balanced his weight against Sid’s chest so he could grasp the base of his plug. He sighed into Sid’s mouth, showing Sid how he wanted to be kissed: with lots of tongue and no teeth.

“That’s it,” said Anya, and Zhenya had already gotten so lost in the feeling of kissing Sid and rotating the plug in his ass that he forgot Anya was with them. Then she said in English for both of their benefits: “He wants it. Give him, Sid.”

Sid hummed in agreement, and Zhenya heard the soft sound of tearing condom foil.

“Give him your cock.”

“In a second,” Sid replied.

Zhenya arched his back and lifted his hips so Sid could reach between them and slide the condom on. Meanwhile, Zhenya pulled his plug out slowly, and pushed it back in.

“Wow, you really like this,” Sid buzzed in his ear when Zhenya had to tuck his face against Sid’s shoulder. Zhenya gently thrust the rubber plug in and out. “How long have you had that thing in you?”

“Few hours,” Zhenya whimpered.

Sid kissed the rim of his ear and Zhenya shivered. “Just to get ready for me?”

“You take too long,” Zhenya groused.

“I had to go to the rink this morning! I have a schedule.”

“Too long,” Anya agreed, and then Zhenya felt her slim fingers grasp the base of the plug and pull it out in one smooth movement. “Both are too long—hurry up. I’m bored.”

Zhenya wanted to stay where he was forever, his chest against Sid’s, but he was suddenly so empty. He rose up, and aligned himself over Sid, and holding Sid’s cock, began to sink down on it.

He had only been fucked by a real cock twice before, both times on vacation where no one knew who he was, and it was years before he even met Anya. What he remembered was the slick glide, the incremental stretch, and the settling against the interior of his hole. Sid was entirely different.

The head of his cock was blunt, and he was thick all the way down. His cock had no give. It was selfish, almost, the way it slid into Zhenya. Somehow sucking it was easier.

Zhenya moaned, high and pained. It was abruptly too much, almost nauseatingly so. His body wanted to refuse the intrusion and accept it, all at once. Sweat dewed on his forehead. He thought about pulling off, his eyes clenched tight.

“Fuck,” grunted Sid, and his hands were on Zhenya’s hips again, digging into the muscle and stopping him from pulling up. “ _Fuck_ , you’re tight—Geno, _God_.” Sid had never made that noise near Zhenya before. It was different, lower, panting, rough.

So Zhenya bore down, and let Sid’s cock wedge all the way into him. It hurt, like stretching a muscle too far, but then it was in, and it wasn’t so bad anymore.

He was _full_. He’d never been so full in his life. He could practically feel it in his throat.

It felt fucking great.

Zhenya felt Anya’s hands on him, then, sliding up his chest, and then she wound her arms around his neck. “You’re doing so well,” she whispered against his lips, and kissed him softly. “He’s in you, all the way. You did it, Zhenechka.”

She kissed him again, and after a moment he was able to kiss back. The pain seeped away as she distracted him, and when she pulled away, he could open his eyes.

Sid looked up at him with—Zhenya didn’t know. He couldn’t describe it, and the bond that they did have was a wild mess of emotions that Zhenya usually didn’t feel from Sid unless they were two rounds into the playoffs. Concern, Zhenya thought. Wonder, and definitely arousal. “You good?” Sid asked him.

Zhenya rolled his eyes, and shifted on Sid’s cock. He’d be just fine. He certainly wasn’t about to tell Sid that his cock was _a lot_.

Anya settled back on the bed, leaning back onto the pillows. “It gets easier if you move,” she advised, as if Zhenya had never had anything up his ass before.

He did as she suggested, though, getting his knees in the right position and carefully rising up.

“Needs more lube,” he said, and Sid obliged him, adding slick to his cock when Zhenya rose. Then it was a lot better.

Zhenya gained confidence quickly. The stretch of Sid’s cock went from uncomfortable to _delicious_ in a matter of a minute. A moan escaped his lips when the fat head of Sid’s cock grazed his prostate, and then Zhenya couldn’t be stopped.

He rode Sid harder and faster, sighing as Sid swore below him.

Anya parted her thighs and caressed herself, slowly, the lavender of her cunt blooming to reveal the fuchsia insides. “He’s so pink,” she said, and sighed when she pressed two fingers into herself. “That’s what colour his cock is. You said it wasn’t any colour.”

“It isn’t,” Zhenya insisted, panting.

Sid squeezed Zhenya’s hips again. “What are you talking about?” He was being very good, lying still and not aggravating his muscles. Zhenya wanted him to flip them over and pound into him, put those hard-earned, powerful legs to work.

“Not important,” Zhenya said, at the same time Anya said, “Your pretty cock.”

Sid was rarely chirped for being pretty, though he deserved it. Still, it produced the same shininess that regular teasing did, and he laughed a little. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

It was, though. His cock was beautiful. Zhenya had seen dicks that looked like sculpted glass or twining plants, vibrant colours and parts designed for pleasure and intensity, but Sid’s was simple. It served its purpose without pretension, perfectly suited to Sid. Zhenya _loved_ it.

He couldn’t ride Sid fast enough, or deep enough. He watched Sid’s face and Anya’s fingers in her pussy, and only caught the right angle every dozen thrusts.

“Okay, my turn,” Anya said while Zhenya was getting frustrated, his own cock sliding up against his stomach but not really getting hard enough to come.

“No,” Zhenya snapped, and sank down all the way onto Sid’s cock. Sid groaned beneath him.

Anya withdrew from her cunt and pinched Zhenya’s nipple with wet fingers. “He can multitask, can’t he?” Zhenya batted her hand away. She untied the belt of her robe and let it slip off her shoulders. “You like pussy?” She asked Sid.

Sid nodded. “Yeah, sure, I—” and he licked his lips, “please.”

Anya pressed her lips together. Zhenya would have to tell her later about some rumor he’d heard of Sid, long ago—about how one of his teammates on the Canadian Olympic team had walked in on Sid with his face buried so deep in a snowboarder’s cunt that he hadn’t even looked up at the yelling. It was only a story, of course, but Zhenya had still gotten off to the idea many times. Maybe Anya would like it, too.

“Don’t be gentle,” Anya warned, and straddled Sid’s head.

Sid let go of Zhenya’s hips and wrapped his arms around Anya’s thighs instead, holding her to his face. Anya looked at Zhenya, and he knew the second Sid’s tongue touched her because he felt a phantom wetness between his own legs, and Anya closed her eyes.

Zhenya looked down, and watched Sid’s tongue flash at intervals. He was rough with her, like he wanted her to be the one to come first. “Have you been feeling him in me this whole time?” he asked Anya.

She nodded. “A little. He’s really thick. Will you let me try him, some day?”

He didn’t say anything, but drew Anya across the space between them, and licked into her mouth.

It was quick, after that. The feeling of Sid’s tongue and Sid’s cock built, feedback echoing through the bond, thick and wet and relentless. Anya did come first, shaking and crying out, which sparked Zhenya in a way that hadn’t yet happened between them. He spilled, untouched, like he wanted to.

Anya dismounted from Sid and sat beside his head. Without Anya’s pussy muffling his voice, Sid was loud again. Zhenya didn’t have the energy to keep riding, so he pulled off Sid’s cock, too. “Don’t move,” he said, and curled over Sid’s body to suck his cock, hard and fast and cruel. It slid in easily with the lube, and Zhenya kept going until it was popping in and out of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck,” Sid chanted, and tugged Zhenya’s hair, and then pushed him all the way down, and came.

Zhenya still coughed when he sat up, but it wasn’t as bad as the last time. At least he felt he could still breathe.

Kind of.

The three of them lay there for a moment, each silenced by wonderment. It had been really great—definitely some of the best sex Zhenya had ever had, though he was too frazzled to really make an accurate comparison.

Then Sid asked, “What happens now?”

“Now,” said Anya, “we nap.”

 

* * *

 

Sid wasn’t weird about it, this time. If anything, he was too obvious.

He slapped Zhenya’s ass whenever he passed him in the hallways—even on game days. He wandered over to the card table on the plane to ruffle Zhenya’s hair until he started wearing his hat. He tugged Zhenya into an empty hallway and kissed him until his lips tingled.

He sat down next to Zhenya after practice. “Can you translate this for me?” He asked, and passed his phone.

It was several texts from Anya, each filthier than the last.

_Next time you can fuck me and Zhenya both. I want to feel your thick cock for myself._

_I’m rubbing my clit, thinking of your tongue. It’s making me so wet._

_Zhenya’s cock-ridges always hit me right where I need it. I bet you could slip into my ass while he’s fucking me and I wouldn’t even notice. I’m not picky about condoms. You can come inside me, make a mess._

_You looked so good inside Zhenya. He’s so desperate for you. You could bend him over whenever you want, and he’ll go easily. I can make sure he’s stretched every morning if you need it._

Zhenya quickly handed back the phone. “She say your dick too small,” he said, knowing that his red face would give away the lie. “Never satisfy. So sad, but I’m best so don’t feel bad.”

Sid grinned at him, goofy and shiny. “I’ll just have to try harder next time then, eh?”

If Anya’s dirty texts weren’t bad enough, what came after was a threat to Zhenya’s life. Sid must have found the actual translation because he had sent one of his own to Anya, asking her in clumsy cyrillic to _show_ him.

“Hey,” Sid said, two days later, “Anna sent me this. Do you know why?” And then tilted his screen so Zhenya could see what came after Sid’s demands.

When Anya sent Zhenya nude photos, they were always either full-body shots or close-ups. What she sent to Sid was artful. It was clearly carefully planned and staged. She probably took twenty shots before she found one that she wanted to send.

In the picture, she was sitting on the window seat in their bedroom. She was in a thin lace bra with a fluffy jacket draped over her shoulders, both the same colour as the petal-like folds of her cunt, which she spread with her fingers for the camera to show the dark pink that peeked from the center. Her gaze was sultry, and the light hit her eyes and made her seem unearthly. She pouted her lips, pink and soft. Zhenya got vertigo from looking at it.

Sid didn’t say anything, just smirked when Zhenya looked up.

“This—” Zhenya started, but he had no real comeback to Sid’s teasing—to _Anya’s_ teasing, because obviously they were both in on it together. Anything Anya sent to Sid, Sid would surely show to Zhenya.

He would have to beg her for the outtakes, but it would be worth it.

Later, Sid knocked on his hotel room door when Zhenya was Skyping with Anya. He let Sid in, because there wasn’t any reason not to anymore, and Sid sat beside him on the bed.

Anya wasn’t dressed up like she had been every other time she had seen Sid, but was casual in the way she had grown to be with Zhenya. Her makeup had already been washed off, her hair all brushed back by her fingers, dressed in patterned flannel pyjamas. Zhenya thought this was when she was most beautiful, though Anya didn’t like to hear it.

She looked at them, then licked her fingers, and slid her hand beneath the waistband of her sleep pants. “You like picture,” she said to Sid, not really a question.

“It wasn’t really fair to send it to me in the middle of the day. I couldn’t touch myself like I wanted to,” he said.

Anya hummed. “Nothing is stop you now.”

“Maybe I just like to watch,” Sid said. He put his arm around Zhenya. “Maybe I want to just enjoy looking at you.”

“No,” she narrowed her eyes. “You’re man of action, I think.”

Zhenya was starting to feel like the third wheel on _his_ nighttime Skype session with _his_ wife, but they didn’t let him feel like that for long. He ended up getting fingered for Anya to see, spread out, all of it on camera, and Anya moaning and encouraging them while she played with herself.

Anya was close to coming by the time Sid got a good sense of where Zhenya’s prostate was. “Wish I’m there,” Anya said. “So good, Zhenya. Is he hot inside?”

“Yeah,” Sid said, and Anya moaned. His blunt fingers reached deeper than Anya could go, but he didn’t have her technique yet. He thrust his at Zhenya’s prostate, right where he needed it, but rubbing almost painfully hard. It was more frustrating than anything, and his dick jerked uselessly and dribbled precome. “I want him on my cock again.”

“Do it.” Anya tipped her head back, let out a few gasping sighs, and came.

Her chest heaved, and Zhenya missed her.

Then she yawned loudly, mouth wide and eyes squinting, and Zhenya missed her even more.

“Enjoy fucking,” she said then. “I’m too sleepy for more Skype. Good night, Sid. Zhenya, I love you.” She kissed her fingers, and then touched them to the webcam.

Zhenya tried to say that he loved her too, but Sid spread his fingers then, and it came out as a warbling cry. Anya smiled, and ended the call. “ _Fuck_ , Sid,” Zhenya complained.

“Let me fuck you.”

“Okay,” Zhenya said. Sid flipped him, then, and pushed him around until he was on his hands and knees.

“Stay there,” Sid instructed, and went rifling through Zhenya’s bag for a condom. He found it, ripped the package, and cursed.

“What’s rush?” Zhenya asked as Sid dug around again.

Sid’s weight returned to the bed, and then his hands were on Zhenya’s ass. “I needed to be inside you days ago. You’ve been making me wait.”

“No,” argued Zhenya, “You can do any time.”

“Oh yeah? You want me to be in your bed every night?” Sid was saying it as a joke, but Zhenya realized that’s exactly what he wanted. Sid could move into their house—or the other way around—and they could wake up together with him. He didn’t know what having that thought meant, because Sid was probably the worst roommate to have.

Luckily he was saved by Sid pushing into him, none too gently, and effectively putting all serious contemplation of anything at all _swiftly_ out of Zhenya’s head.

Sid seemed to only have the patience to fuck Zhenya like this for a few minutes, and then he pulled out. “I want to see you,” he said, and rearranged their position so Zhenya was on his back with his thighs spread and his knees over Sid’s hips.

It felt the best, after all. It kept pressure off of Zhenya’s aching joints, and gave Sid the leverage to grind in heavy and deep.

He kissed Zhenya, and stroked his cock. Sid rubbed his thumb over the three ridges at the base and trailed his fingers from the tapered tip, down and back again. He massaged Zhenya while he thrust inside, perfect, and exactly how Zhenya wanted it.

Zhenya came with tears in his eyes, like everything was being pushed and dragged out of him. Sid wasn’t long after.

 

* * *

 

It was easy to let Sid into every aspect of his life. Zhenya would go to Sid’s house for dinner and stay overnight, then drive with Sid to practice in the morning, and go back together to Zhenya’s for a nap before a game. Anya and Sid went grocery shopping together, fussing over the healthiest ingredients. He bought a new bed to fit all three of them and they broke it in together over a few days, worrying at one point that they had literally broken it in their collective enthusiasm. Sid’s things started showing up in the house—his shampoo in their shower and his secret desserts in their pantry.

One day when Zhenya came back from a physiotherapy session, Sid’s car was parked in their drive. Zhenya found him with Anya in the media room, both of them wearing pairs of Zhenya’s sweatpants that neither fit into.

“He’s teaching me to play NHL,” Anya said as Zhenya leaned over the armchair and kissed the top of her head. She tilted her head up and kissed him for real. “He’s letting me win because he thinks I’ve never played with you before.”

“No, Sid is just bad at video games,” Zhenya replied.

“Stop it. I know you’re talking about me,” Sid said from the other chair, and so Zhenya had to go over there and let Sid kiss him hello, too.

“Only good things.”

Sid smiled, satisfied. “I want turkey for dinner.”

Zhenya groaned. He was exhausted from eating from Sid’s meal plan every other night, which didn’t call for much variety. “Then you make. Use Mama Crosby’s recipe.”

“That’s for special occasions,” he said.

“It’s special occasion,” Zhenya insisted. He planted his hands on either side of Sid’s head, and rocked his chair back. Then he kissed Sid, as deeply as he could get away with, until Sid dropped his controller and put his arms around Zhenya’s neck.

Sid had to go back to his house after dinner, but he stayed long enough to dance with Anya in the kitchen while Zhenya rinsed the dishes to put in the washer. Both of them were mediocre dancers, and laughed every time they stepped on each others’ feet or slid on the floor. They bumped into Zhenya, causing him to slop water all over the floor. He turned and flicked droplets at them, grinning, and they yelped. Sid tackled him—defending Anya’s honor, he said—and they grappled until Sid leveraged his weight and they toppled onto the ground.

He was pinned, Sid above him with his face all red with delight, and Zhenya—something came over him.

It was a bond, a _genuine_ bond, stronger than ever, and Sid’s affection and delight and warmth and thoughts of home and family and forever _poured_ into Zhenya like a river.

“I think I’m in love with Sid,” Zhenya said, much later after he had worried it in his mind until the thought became soft.

Anya looked at him in the mirror, toothbrush in her foamy mouth, and audibly wondering to herself why Zhenya always accosted her with important revelations when she was defenseless like this. She spat delicately into the sink. “I would hope you are,” she replied.

Zhenya leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and let Anya finish brushing her teeth.

When she was done, Anya said, “It’s one thing to fuck someone, but he practically lives with us. It wouldn’t be fair to Sid if you didn’t love him. It wouldn’t be fair to _me._ ”

Zhenya bit his lip, and hunched his shoulders. He’d been resisting it for so long, and now to say it, he was embarrassed he hadn’t let himself love Sid wholly and unabashedly from the beginning. Or maybe he _did_ love Sid the whole time. Avoiding it had been childish, he realized. “We bonded tonight,” he said.

“That’s wonderful,” Anya touched his arm, and he opened himself and embraced her. She smelled like cotton and mint. “I bonded with Sid a few days ago. I didn’t know if I should tell you right away.”

“I always want you to tell me everything,” Zhenya said. “How did it happen?”

“It’s pretty strange,” Anya burrowed deeper into Zhenya’s arms. “He came over after your game, and I told him he’d played well. He said thanks, and smiled at me, and slapped my ass like I was one of his guys.”

Zhenya laughed. That was just like Sid.  

“Actually, I think he said, ‘Thanks, bud,’” Anya mimicked his Canadian accent, completely butchering it, but Zhenya could hear it clearly in his head.

“What do we do now?” Zhenya asked when they were getting into bed.

“Do you want him to move in?” Anya pondered.

Sid would never leave his house. It was perfectly to his taste, full of memories and designed to hold the entire team and all their families for get-togethers. “I’d like that,” Zhenya said, but wondered if Anya wouldn’t mind some day leaving their own house instead.

Anya hummed, then sighed, and pillowed her head on Zhenya’s chest. He wrapped his arms back around her, obligingly. “It’s still too soon, I think. We’ll talk about it over the summer.”

“Good plan,” Zhenya said, and reached over, and turned off the light.

 

* * *

 

Zhenya was used to expressing his love through grand gestures, but Sid wasn’t the type. For a few days, Zhenya daydreamed about buying Sid a hockey rink or presenting him with a dozen triple-tiered chocolate cakes, but Sid was a lot more subtle than Anya or himself.

Then he thought about the smaller ways he could show how he felt, and they made his heart flutter. He wanted to get Sid a key to their Miami apartment and their place in Moscow, or to clear a third of the closet for Sid to fill with his boring clothes. He had a vision of Sid making awful smoothie breakfasts every morning, of cluttering the den with all his hockey paraphernalia, of his temples going grey strand-by-strand.

Anya said she wanted to get him something for the bond. “What about something for his necklace?”

Zhenya shook his head, “He won’t wear anything but his numbers,” but then he wanted it as well. He and Anya both wore tokens of their marriage around their necks; Sid should have one, too.

It was a matter of a single shopping trip for Anya to pick something out—a thread-thin braided knot—but Zhenya agonized about it for two weeks. He had such a tough time that Anya had gone on another work trip and was almost back by the time he made his decision.

He showed Anya in the car, stopped at a red light on the way home from the airport, snow falling in fluffy tufts around them. He’d been carrying it in his pocket for days: a small, oblong disc with his thumbprint pressed to the back.

They went to Sid’s place the next day, their gifts wearing holes in their pockets. Sid kissed them both at the door, an apron tied around his waist, and his hands damp and cold. “I’m just about done,” Sid said as he let them inside.  He hung up Anya’s coat while she took off her boots, and then scurried back to the kitchen where he was cooking, rogue emotions flickering in his wake. Zhenya couldn’t quite catch them, like Sid was turning the dial on a radio and only letting snippets of music and chatter through.

Zhenya poured glasses of the red wine Sid had set out at the table. It tasted light and sweet like he and Anya preferred—a compromise because Sid wouldn’t drink white, even if it was dry.

“What does _he_ have to be nervous about?” Anya asked, her head cocked towards Sid’s kitchen.

Zhenya shrugged. Who could explain the babble of thoughts that coursed through Sid’s mind? Now that Zhenya could hear them clearly, he was learning to let them become background sounds.

Dinner, when Sid brought it out, was delicious as always. When Sid had first bought his house, he had invited Zhenya over and made spaghetti with jarred sauce and store-bought garlic bread. Zhenya had thought _that_ was impressive at the time. Sid had been improving his culinary skills for years now.

He served some kind of pasta made from zucchini and eggplant in a balsamic sauce, with cubes of roasted sweet potatoes and tomatoes and chicken. There was a salad on the side, which Zhenya picked the good stuff out of—feta, walnuts, and pomegranate seeds—and left the arugula behind. Zhenya tried to eat slowly, but his own nerves caught up to him, and he was done while Anya and Sid were still chewing.

“You want more?” Sid asked him.

Zhenya was sweating under his starchy collar. He should’ve worn something more comfortable—after all, it was only Sid. “No,” he said, glancing at Anya, “I have question first.”

Anya put down her fork, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and then slid her box across the table to Sid.

Sid paused mid-chew, eyebrows up, eyes wide. “What’s this?” he asked with his mouth full, as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious from the box itself: small, green velvet, and gilded with bond vines.

Zhenya got out of his chair and knelt on the ground at Sid’s feet. He pulled his own Pittsburgh-gold box from his pocket. He knew the way to phrase it in English because he’d looked it up, but he didn’t want to get it wrong, so he said it in Russian instead. “Sidney Patrick, will you be with me forever?”

He opened the box, and Anya flipped hers open and repeated the words.

Sid looked back and forth between them. He finished chewing and then stood up, his napkin falling off his lap. “Hold on a second,” he said, and walked out of the room.

Zhenya blinked after him. “What’s he doing?” Anya asked.

“Well I’m not ruining my knees waiting to find out.” He got up and back into his seat.

Whatever Sid was doing took the better part of five minutes, and Zhenya and Anya waited in bewildered silence. Zhenya could feel Sid’s strange flickering of emotions somewhere in the house. The clock on the wall ticked, but it was running an hour off. Sometimes Sid didn’t have the good sense God gave a bird: you didn’t walk away during a bond proposal.

“Sorry,” Sid called, and reappeared. “I was—uh, I don’t know. A little nervous.”

He came back to the table and produced two identical black boxes. “Oh, thank God,” Anya muttered.

Sid handed one to each of them. “Will you be mine?” He asked, which wasn’t the right combination of words, Zhenya was sure, but it didn’t matter.

“You say yes first, asshole,” Anya snapped.

“Oh,” said Sid, “yes. Yes, of course I will.”

“Then I will, too,” Anya said. She opened her box, and a slim gold band was nestled inside. It was far too understated for her, Zhenya thought, but it was absolutely Sid’s style. Anything else wouldn’t be right.

“Geno, open it,” Sid said.

He did.

His own ring was the same shape, but silver. He slid it onto his finger, and it fit perfectly.

Sid took both of their hands and pressed his lips to the knuckles. His own hands were shaking.

“Why mine is different?” Anya asked.

“Cup is silver,” Zhenya murmured, willing himself not to cry.

“No, it’s because Anya is better,” Sid replied, and then he went around the table, cupped Zhenya’s face, and kissed him. The three of them lost track of time for a while.

Later, Sid was fiddling with the bond pendants when Zhenya and Anya came upstairs from tackling the deceptively enormous pile of dishes in the kitchen. Obviously, Sid had spent his day experimenting because every single pot and pan was dirty.

“You sure?” Zhenya asked as Sid threaded the gold disc onto his chain. “Everyone will see.”

Sid scoffed and took up Anya’s pendant next. “Who gives a shit if anyone sees? I’ll make out with you on the jumbotron if that’s what you want.”

Zhenya knew that Sid was in no way prepared to do that—and neither was Zhenya, frankly—but he could read that Sid was fiercely protective of the bond. If anyone asked him nosy questions about his necklace, Sid was planning to simply ignore them. Zhenya kind of liked that idea.

He took off his uncomfortable shirt and his jeans and got into the bed next to Sid. Then Anya came in from the en-suite wearing nothing but a smirk. “Are you old guys going to sleep?” She asked, looking at them with hunger in her eyes. “I’m not tired.”

It was enough of a challenge to get them both going.

Anya got her mouth around Sid’s cock, which Zhenya could only watch for about six seconds before he risked combustion. She closed her eyes and hummed, delighting in it, and the bond amplified it enough that Zhenya had to distract himself.

He got his hands on Sid’s ass, which he honestly liked just as much as his dick. Zhenya buried his face and lapped at the tight furl of Sid’s hole. Sid yelped, and then whimpered, and tried half-heartedly to twitch away, but Zhenya knew he liked being eaten out almost as much as he liked fucking. Zhenya was the same way, feeling equal parts filthy and pampered whenever he had someone’s tongue in his ass.

They worked at Sid for a while, riling him up until he became impatient and fought for the upper hand.

Sid slid into Anya and fucked her while Zhenya fingered himself open, feeling lonely on his side of the bed until Anya pushed the sensation of Sid’s thickness at him and he grew quickly desperate. “Deeper,” she barked, clawing at Sid’s shoulders, and Zhenya sped up.

When he was ready enough, Zhenya wrestled Sid over, out from underneath Anya, and sank onto Sid’s cock. He gasped, the girth of Sid’s cock always managing to surprise him, but the stretch felt right.

“Don’t steal all the fun for yourself,” Anya said. She swung her leg over Zhenya’s thighs and let him take her weight. “Come on, Zhenya,” she purred, fingers working at his cock, “put it inside me.”

Zhenya came between them while Anya whispered in his ear about how he was taking Sid bare and how filthy he would be. He spilled inside Anya and Sid kept pounding into him, panting with his arms around as much of them as he could reach. Anya rubbed her clit and Zhenya kept his cock inside her until he was too sensitive, and then some, when she finally came and squeezed around the soft, tender length of him.

At the end, Sid put Zhenya on his stomach, body pressing into him, pushing the breath out of him, and came in a few short, hard thrusts.

For a minute, Zhenya floated, feeling far too good to move, wrung out as a towel. He felt absolutely wet.

Anya gasped, and Zhenya turned his head. Her hand was grasping the dark curly hair on Sid’s head while he licked her, tongue driving deep. Anya caught Zhenya’s eye. “He’s tasting you,” she said. “He’s sucking up all your come.”

He watched as Anya writhed on Sid’s mouth and it didn’t take long before she was shaking and going over the edge again.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and then Sid was up again, settling between Zhenya’s legs and parting his ass cheeks. Zhenya groaned. “Can’t go again, Sid.”

“You’re not gonna,” Sid said. “You’re just going to lie there and take it.”

Sid used his fingers and his tongue and cleaned Zhenya out with a sort of leisureliness. Anya opened her eyes to watch for a moment, but then pulled up the corner of the blankets and tucked herself in. Sid was radiating smugness through the bond, thinking _who’s the old guy now?_ He kept going for ages, laving at Zhenya’s hole and sucking lightly on the rim. Zhenya was turned on by the time Sid was done, but much too tired to do anything about it. Sid could take the win for the night.

When Sid was satisfied, he slapped Zhenya’s ass once, a hard pat.

Zhenya grumbled as he rolled over onto his back, but settled when Sid spooned behind him. They watched Anya breathe in her sleep, her chest above the blankets, lavender-tinged nipples just a bit perky in the cooler air.

“You could suck on her tits,” Sid suggested. “She’d wake up and we could go again.”

“Maybe my ass too sore from your huge dick,” Zhenya complained, though it wasn’t really.

Sid sighed, but Zhenya could read that he was just as amenable to sleep. He reached to turn the bedside lamp off, and then they were in darkness. “Oh, fuck me,” Sid cursed as Zhenya was just about to drift off. “I made this kiwi sorbet and we never ate it. Shit.”

“So we eat for breakfast,” Zhenya muttered.

“Sorbet isn’t for breakfast.”

“Okay, whatever. We have at lunch or dinner or on weekend. Next week,” Zhenya turned in the circle of Sid’s arms and kissed him meanly, all pressure and definitely no sweetness at all. “Shut up and sleep.”

He could feel Sid smiling in the darkness. “I love you,” he said.

Sid’s ring was on his finger, and on Anya’s. Their bond was steadfast. “I love you, too,” Zhenya said, and at last they fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Sidney Crosby's Marvelous Normcore Cock


End file.
